Chapter 4 - Across the Street

Across the street, in a three-storey apartment a solitary bulb on the third floor helped Mrs. Banerjee tidy up her wardrobe. She took each crumpled piece of clothing, neatly folded it and kept it inside. Meenakshi watched her silently through her window, and felt secretly jealous of her relatively happy family life. Her husband snored sonorously on the bed, but Mrs. Banerjee felt comforted by its presence and thereby his. Meenakshi had visited the Banerjees a few times. Mrs. Banerjee had served her tea each time and spoken to her sweet English in a lovely rounded Bengali accent. Her little daughter, Maya, had big eyes that brimmed over with curiosity and delight each time she saw Meenakshi. Theirs was a small two-bedroom apartment, but then Mrs. Banerjee with her industry, creative eye and that special gene passed on to her by her mother, had made a lovely home from whatever was available to her.

The Mehtas, the Guptas, old Mrs. Fernandes also lived in the same apartments. But they were asleep at this late hour. In due course, even the solitary rebellious bulb yawned and promptly turned itself off. Meenakshi felt so alone. The picture of the apartment stood out in the moonlight and the lovely Banyan tree swayed its leaves as the wind blew across its face. From habit, she looked at her cell phone and put it back again. She felt she should lie down. But something inside her hurt so much that she couldn't lie down. Tears streamed down her face as she thought over and over again of what had happened that fateful night. Of what he had said and how she had replied. Of the look in his face, the tone of his voice, of the meaning of his words, and the reasons behind them – she remembered it vividly like she was still there, hearing the words being said to her, in slow motion, again and again.

A gust of wind blew the curtains, and they brushed against her face. A little paper on the bedside table rustled in the wind. The bedside lamp nonchalantly shed light on her crumpled bed. As if on cue, her cell phone beeped briefly and fell silent. He had sent her a curious, cryptic message that said “Why?” But even that mysterious “Why?” felt oddly like a sigh of relief to Meenakshi. She sobbed freely now, and thought of him again. She found a pen on the bedside table and on the paper she wrote –

“Why? I don’t know why. Why should I know why?
After all that’s been said, why do you ask me why?”

She crumpled the piece of paper, and flung it to the floor. She sat by the window again, and stared at the Banyan tree and the apartment on the other side. Why does the tree look like a hand stretched out heavenwards – she wondered.

Chapter 3 - The train rocked from side to side

The train rocked from side to side. The bodies, crammed into the ladies compartment of the local train, moved accordingly. When they were inside they were no longer mothers, wives and daughters. They resembled some vague aquatic microorganism, swaying in the water, attached to their host by oral suckers (for they held on to the horizontal bars that crisscrossed the ceiling of the compartment). The harmony of this alignment wouldn’t be disturbed till the next stop – that’s the Andheri West railway station. Meenakshi was ready for what was to follow. The muscles of her forehead crinkled with concentration. It had to be precise, her movement to the platform. One false move and she would fall flat on her face, and on her would collapse a deluge of female bodies.

As the engine began to slow down to a halt, she could feel an ever-increasing force that would eventually propel her to the platform. The last few seconds were excruciatingly painful, as bodies collided against each other and emerged out of a small orifice pushing back other bodies trying to get into the compartment. It was like a thousand babies being born all at the same time. And then it was all over. A few more steps down to the auto-stand and she could have a hassle free ride back home.

It had been hectic, the last few days. There was not much of personal life for a financial journalist such as her. Gone were the days of carefree college-life – Sophia College was now a happy memory that she would recall when she met old friends for coffee. The computer screen with rapidly changing stock indices, aluminium ore prices and oil prices was now her world. Her lovely colleagues Rekha and Anita were good company though. But each had their families to go home to. It was kind of vacant now, with Maan missing from her life. He has a dentist’s appointment today - hope he remembers. But I really shouldn’t worry anymore – I am sure he has other friends (damn that Shila) to remind him.

The auto roared to a start and moved on briskly amidst the traffic like a mouse. Distant honking and other vehicular noises surrounded Meenakshi, like thoughts surround an idle mind. She wondered if he thought of her too. Has he eaten? Keeps skipping his meals. Should I call him? She even picked up her cell phone. She had erased his number last night. It was like how tears sometimes dissolve words written on paper. But then she remembered his number only too well. She typed his number on the keypad, but she didn’t call …